


Behind Closed Door

by allhailthenerdmage



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-12 21:37:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7123435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allhailthenerdmage/pseuds/allhailthenerdmage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In public, Yifan stares at Zitao like he is the bane of his existence. In private, he smiles at Zitao like he is the sun. </p><p>Zitao isn't sure how to feel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind Closed Door

"Stand up straight, boy!" His mother fussed with his collar for what had to be the hundredth time. She straightened his cloak and fixed his hair again. Then she stepped back, seemingly satisfied. "Smile!" She urged, "You are the prince's adviser, at least act as if you enjoy it." 

 

Zitao sighed and smiled, it was hollow and they both knew it. He didn't enjoy 'advising' the prince. Not with the withering gazes that Yifan would shoot him while the King and Queen looked away, as if his very existence was an inconvenience. But he only had to pretend around the public, when they sat in meetings Zitao was free to roll his eyes at his prince all he wanted.

 

So he put on a happy smile and followed his mother out into the courtyard. The summer palace court was one of the most beautiful things Zitao had ever seen, despite visiting every year, it never failed to drag his breath from his lungs. The court was surrounded by cherry blossom trees, casting breathtaking shadows across the dark stones that made up the court. Carpets of petals made it almost impossible to see the stones under his feet. 

 

Zitao's gaze was immediately drawn to the four thrones that sat atop the dais in the center of the court, where Yifan and his half brother Chanyeol sat on either side of their parents. Yifan lounged in his throne, somehow looking interested and bored at the same time. Chanyeol, on the other hand, sat up in his throne excitedly,  a grin gracing his lips as Zitao took his place by Yifan's side. Chanyeol's adviser, Baekhyun, had already taken his place.

 

The courtyard's excited chatter fell into silence as the King stood, his arms spread wide. His voice boomed as he spoke, "Let the summer festival, begin!" Cheers erupted throughout the courtyard, bringing a grin to the King's face.

 

As the citizens wandered out of the courtyard, Zitao heard Yifan sigh.

"Is something wrong, highness?" Zitao asked, voice low and respectful, as practiced. Yifan looked at his adviser with another sigh,

"It's the same festival every year." He said, "Why are they always so excited?"

Zitao was silent for a moment, contemplating. "The citizens need it," He said finally, "It's an excuse to relax and ignore the hardships of earlier in the year." The adviser turned his attention to the courtyard briefly, studying the crowd. He noticed the smiles that had made their way onto the king and queen's faces, and the relaxed looks on the guard's faces. "They get to have fun for a while, including the king and queen." 

 

Yifan sat up, as if interested by Zitao's explanation. "You can tell all that?" He sounded suprised, "You are more observant than I thought." The prince fell silent, leaving Zitao unsure if it had been a thinly veiled insult, or a complement. Yifan suddenly got up from his throne, dusting off his robes although there was no dirt. 

He waved to his father and bowed, gesturing for his adviser to follow.

 

The younger man hastily bowed to the king and queen and rushed to follow Yifan. They strode through the summer palace's wide marble halls silently, Yifan having slowed down enough for Zitao to walk beside him comfortably. They stopped at the gates to the royal gardens. Zitao was hesitant to step inside, no one was allowed into the gardens, apart from the gardener and the royal family themselves. Yifan rolled his eyes at the younger man and led him inside.

 

"Is it alright for me to be here?" Zitao asked, voice wavering slightly. He was honestly worried, both for himself and Yifan. Zitao didn't want to cause his prince problems, no matter how annoying he was.

"Yes," Yifan sighed, "It's alright as long as I say it is. Chanyeol brings Baekhyun here all the time." He sounded exasperated, so much unlike his usual bored tone. It gave Zitao a minute glimpse at his prince's actual personality.

  
Yifan led the younger man to a cherry blossom tree, settling on the bench beneath it. He patted the bench nest to him, an almost friendly expression gracing his face. Intrigued, Zitao sat on the bench. It earned it a soft sigh as Yifan relaxed. 

“My mother has been urging me to get to know you better.” Zitao’s head snapped to meet Yifan’s gaze. “She says that if I’m going to trust you to help me rule a kingdom, I should at least know you a little.” The adviser remained silent, listening intently to Yifan. “Chanyeol is best friends with Baekhyun and my father was best friends with his adviser. Mother says that it’s in my best interest to become friends with you as well.” Yifan turned to stare at Zitao curiously, “So how about this; I ask a question and you answer, then you ask and I’ll answer. Do you agree?”

 

“Of course, highness.” Zitao replied. The prince rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Call me Yifan in private, please.”

“Yes, high-Yifan.” It felt strange on his tongue, but if he was honest, Zitao enjoyed the smile that it brought to Yifan’s lips.

“Ask away,” Zitao said, turning to face Yifan. The older man faces his adviser and smiled,

“We’ll start easy, favorite color?” He asked, cocking his head.

“Blue,” Zitao answered immediately. Yifan grinned at the younger man’s enthusiasm.

 

“Alright,” Zitao contemplated his question for a moment. He settled on one of the simple questions. “How many languages do you speak?” Zitao had heard tales of their prince’s skill in other languages. Yifan gave a quiet chuckle, “It's not as astounding as the stories make it out to be.” He said, “I speak four fluently. Our language, Cantonese, Korean and the westerner’s language.” The prince ticked them off on his fingers, still smiling.

 

Zitao found himself smiling as well, butterflies stirring in his stomach. Yifan’s soft grin, free of stress or annoyance, added to the strange feeling amassing in his heart. He decided that he liked Yifan’s carefree smile and made it his mission to see it more often.

 

“My turn then,” Yifan’s voice brought Zitao out of his thoughts. “Have any tattoos?” Immediately Zitao blushed, dropping his head.

“Yes,” HIs voice was almost too quiet to be heard. The prince chuckled again,

“May I see it?” He asked. Although Zitao could have protested and said that Yifan could only ask one question, he found himself nodding.

  
The younger man undid the first few buttons of his shirt, revealing a pale expanse of unblemished skin. He bared his collarbone for Yifan to see, the black ink standing out against milky skin like blood on snow. An hourglass about the size of Zitao’s palm sat just underneath Zitao’s collarbone, accompanied by a black and white tiger climbing up Zitao’s rib cage, exposed as the younger man unbuttoned a bit more of his shirt.

 

Zitao could feel the blush flaming across his cheeks. He glanced up to Yifan's face, sucking in a breath. The older man reached out slowly, gently running his fingertips over the dark patterns. Zitao's gasp seemed to bring Yifan back to the present, the prince withdrew instantly.

 

"Apologies," He said, sounding flustered. "I didn't mean to-"

"I-Its alright, Yifan." Zitao cut his of softly, sounding just as flustered as the older man. 

"Ah, its your turn I believe," Yifan said. Obviously avoiding Zitao's gaze as the younger man buttoned his shirt. Zitao nodded,

"Hmm, how about you? Any tattoos?" He asked, a soft smile pulling at his lips.

 

Yifan smiled and nodded, "One." The prince raised his shirt, baring his lower back. Dark ink contrasted beautifully with Yifan's tanned skin. The royal family's crest coiled across Yifan's back, the graceful dragon following the soft curve of Yifan's bones beneath his skin. Zitao suddenly understood the prince's urge to touch, the contrast of ink and skin somehow alluring.

 

The prince dropped his shirt back into place with a sigh. "Chanyeol and I got them last year," He smiled fondly, "He said they would be beautiful and he was so excited, how could I say no?"

 "He was right," Zitao was blushing again, "It's quite beautiful." He ducked his head, missing Yifan's terribly obvious glance towards the younger man's tattoos.

"Yours are beautiful as well," He replied. Zitao felt his heart leap at the complement, a smile growing on his lips.

 

"It's your turn, Yifan." The casual use of the prince's name made him smile, a friendly atmosphere falling into place.

"Yes, my father tells me that you study martial arts. What is that like?" Yifan asked, meeting Zitao's relaxed gaze. The younger smiled, huge and genuine. 

"I've won a few tournaments. I specialize in using the bow staff," He explained animatedly, mimicking the movements with his hands. Yifan smiled and hung on Zitao' every word.

 

They continued asking question until Zitao's stomach rumbled, making the adviser blush. Yifan stood up and held out a hand  to help Zitao up, "I suppose we could sneak some food from the kitchens." The younger man nodded, although reluctant to halt their conversation. "Come," Yifan led him out of the gardens, "We missed lunch, but the kitchens should have some leftovers."

 

Zitao followed his prince to the large room that served as the summer palace's kitchen. As the walked in they were  greeted by a loud voice.

"Hello!" A shorter man bowed to Yifan, "How can we help you, highness?" His voice was cheerful and put an involuntary smile on Zitao's lips.

"We were hoping you had some leftovers from lunch," Yifan said. For once his voice was friendly, instead of mildly hostile as usual. 

"Course we do!" The small man exclaimed, he spun on his heel and yelled at someone in the kitchen. "Jongdae!"

"What?!" Came the equally loud reply. The smaller man yelled something that Zitao couldn't understand, speaking in their native language.

 

After a few moments, another man emerged from the kitchen carrying a platter of food. Zitao's mouth watered at the delectable smell, Yifan noticed and chuckled softly, settling his cheeks ablaze again. The man set the platter on on of the empty tables and retreated into the kitchen just as fast as he had appeared. Yifan turned to the first man and thanked him.

 

"Always happy to help, highness." He replied cheerfully, following his companion back into the kitchen. Zitao stopped him briefly to ask his name, he would be smart to be on good terms with the people who could easily poison Yifan. The man grinned blindingly, "Kim MInseok, at your service."

"Thank you," Zitao bowed quickly. He took his seat next to Yifan and watched the small man return to the kitchen. Yifan cleared his throat, catching Zitao's attention.

"Why did you ask for his name?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow. His adviser shrugged, he explained his thoughts briefly. Yifan chuckled,  "I appreciate your concern." He replied ruefully. 

 

They ate in a comfortable silence, the occasional click of dishes from the kitchen being the only sound. When Zitao finished his meal he stood up and took the empty plate. As he carried them to the kitchen, he could feel Yifan's gaze on him. Though the attention failed tomake him uncomfortable, the almost forgotten butterflies in his stomach stirred once more.

 

He returned to the table, smiling at Yifan cheerfully. The older man grinned back and it still suprised Zitao. Yifan’s personality had completely flipped, he had gone from the angry, bored prince, to the friendly, cheerful boy. Zitao definitely prefered this Yifan to the prince.

 

"Something on your mind, Zitao?" Yifan asked. Zitao shook his head, ignoring the erratic beat of his heart at the sound of his name on Yifan's lips. 

"No, just distracted." He smiled. Yifan fell silent, he looked as if he was going to say something. But the arrival of one of his father's servants interupted him. The servan bowed deeply and regarded the pair carefully.

 

"His highness requests your presence," He said, making Yifan sigh heavily.

"I will be right there," The prince replied. He smiled at Zitao, "We can continue our conversation later."

"Of course. Farewell, highness." The adviser's tone was cheerful, Yifan's smile filling him with a pleasant glow.

 

Yifan followed the servant out of the kitchens, leaving Zitao alone. He thanked Minseok again and headed to his own quarters, a wide smile still pulling at his lips.


End file.
